Portraits
by Claude le Viste
Summary: Tezuka Kunimitsu questions Fuji Syuusuke about his artistic side. How silly. I Wrote this when I had a very STRANGE writing style urge... You will be AMAZED at this writing style if you have read my earlier fics...


Disclaimer: Nope.

Just something I thought of when I finished teaching some clueless people how to draw… This is the first time I ever tried writing in POV format.

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Tezuka held no interest in Fuji's paintings until now. Usually they were portraits of people- People that Tezuka did not recognize. Yet they had this specific sense in them that made Tezuka think that there really in someone like that out there. And there was always a table in Fuji's drawings. A background was often included. Fuji's most loved background was a table with all sorts of things on it. Cloths, towels, pencils, tissues, books, brushes, even makeup. Fuji would mix junk together and include it in his drawings. Tezuka did not understand this.

--Tezuka's POV-

"Fuji," I asked one day when I knew that he was in a good mood. I always knew when he was in a good mood. Because when he was in a good mood, he would wear his smile less sadistically and move swiftly. When things were not going well for him, he would walk stiffly and a sadistic aura would rise from him. Like a murderer. "Why do you always draw a messy table somewhere in your drawings?" I asked. I had thought about this question quite clearly. Fuji had an amused expression. I could not tell if he was happy or sad that he noticed.

"Because… Because it teases and meanwhile praises the eye, and at the same time contrasts with my portraits. It is like contrasting colors while mixed with complimentary colors." Fuji replied after some slight hesitation. His eyes opened. I eagerly searched his profile, stopping at his eyes. They gave no clue to what he was thinking. I also caught myself getting lost in those blue orbs. This was regular for me.

I nodded and stood from my chair. I stood up to fast. The blood rushed from my head. I showed no sign of it and exited the room, feeling stupid for just asking the question. Fuji had his ways. And I shouldn't get in the middle of them.

The next day, I entered his studio. He was gone to buy new paint. I had the studio all to myself. It reeked of paper and inks. I came closer to study his painting. Nothing had changed since the last time he had entered! _How can he spend his time like this?_ I thought bitterly. But over the next few days, his painting changed magically. The saying 'A watched pot never boils' proved wrong in this situation. I found out the secret of Fuji's drawings the next day.

It was rare when Fuji let me watch him paint. I often studied his paintings after he'd left his studio. As he busied himself over his drawing equipment, I leaned over to get a better look at what he was doing. He had begun another drawing. First he coated the pure white paper with blue. It was an aquamarine blue. Then he carelessly flung a huge pink circle over it. Then he added blobs of golden yellow on top of the circle. This amused me. This was going to be a horrible painting if he kept doing this. But then he slowly started to add detail. The circle was turned into a face, the blobs turned into strands of hair. I needed to see no more. I left his studio, shutting the door beside me softly.

Fuji changed many things when he drew. One day I saw him draw a vase on the table. It was purple, but when I looked closer, I saw that it was made of many different colors- none of which was purple. Yet when I look at it, my first assumption was purple. Three days later, I entered his studio again. The vase was gone. In its place was a crumpled and dried rose. It amazed me that he could change something so quickly and make it look like it's never been there. It also scared me.

One day, he asked me why I had taken a liking to watching him paint. "A watched pot never boils." He said, smiling. I was prepared for that. "Yes, and after a long while staring at it, you find that you've forgotten to turn on the gas." The smile on his face vanished. I regretted outsmarting him. He wasn't even in the best of moods today. Even though this was all in jest, his mood worsened. His painting must not have gone well. The next day, the blonde hair had changed to brown. So suddenly that it terrified me. Was he going to do that to our relationship one day? It was fine when he changed something insignificant in the background- but changing the main idea so quickly?

The next few days, he did not allow me into his studio. It seems that he is painting something valuable that he does not want me to see. _Alright._ I thought. _I will endure it._

A few weeks later, he invited me into his studio. I hesitantly followed, unsure of what to expect. His studio was a mess- it made me question myself if he'd been actually painting at all. I trudged over to study his painting. It was me. Only me. There was blue all around. So vast and dark was the blue that it would've added sadness to any merry portrait. He had removed the table. Removed everything, so only my head, neck and shoulders were showing. It seemed like complete darkness, yet one side of my face was laminated, as if moonlight was being washed onto me. My expression was grim. But something felt wrong. Something didn't feel right.

I turned to see Fuji staring at me as if expecting something. "How is it?" He asked. It must be a trick question. I thought. Nothing that I'd say would be correct. "It is beautiful." I told him, mouthing out each word. Fuji nodded, expression unwavering, and led me out of his studio. I didn't know if I'd said the right thing or not. The next morning I realized the trick.

I went to his studio to study the painting again. The painting had changed completely. Yet nothing seemed out of the ordinary, my glasses now had a glint and its lenses reflected some of the light that seemed to shower from an unknown source. Now I was satisfied. It was something that caught my eye, yet surprisingly logical and complimented the drawing, at the meantime, it contrasted with my plain face. I knew nothing about Fuji's artistic side. I realized. And I had more and more to learn yet about our relationship.

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So how did you guys think? My sister read this and she said it was poetic. I don't think so… Please review! I think I can write more drabbles like this… I had great fun in writing this:D


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